Lazzaro wasn’t tired now, though—in fact he was very, very awake. The air was thick with arousal, and the heat that was burning from her mouth warmed him. Their breathing matched. He could see the curve of her bosom as it rapidly rose and fell, and it actually felt as if they were kissing. He could see her tongue bobbing out, rolling over her bottom lip. Both were silent, both just staring, both feeling it—an it that was impossible to deny—this bit of ice that reared between them now and then. Ice that really needed to be broken…
‘Should we just go upstairs? Get it over with…?’ His voice was low and gruff, his eyes smiling down at hers.
If anyone else, under any other circumstance, had said that, she’d have died. But she actually laughed, grateful that he’d acknowledged it, made a sort of joke about it, so that she could too.
‘Only I don’t think I can walk about like this all day—it would be extremely uncomfortable!’
‘Well, you’d better get used to it,’ Caitlyn retorted. ‘Because I’ve seen your schedule and we certainly haven’t got time for any of that nonsense—anyway, I’ve just done my make-up.’
He laughed, and amazingly she wasn’t blushing any more. In fact, Caitlyn realised, she was flirting—she, Caitlyn Bell, the last virgin on earth, the most unskilled flirter alive, was actually teasing the sexiest man of them all. And she was doing it rather well, she realised, as he actually pushed just a little bit harder, and she actually glimpsed a note of regret when he smiled and winked.
‘Pity!’
Now she could pick up her cup, and she took a drink.
‘Pity,’ he said again. ‘It would have been marvellous, you know!’
Skimming the newspaper as they left the city behind, still he managed to dish out his orders.
‘Book a massage for you—all the best treatments—and book golf for me. Tell them I need to hire everything,’ Lazzaro prompted as she pulled out her phone.
‘Women do play golf too,’ Caitlyn responded tartly as she dialled the number. ‘Some rather well…’
‘Fine.’ Lazzaro bared his teeth in a smile. ‘You play golf, if you prefer—I could use a massage, actually!’
Given the only thing Caitlyn knew about golf was that it sounded boring, she made reservations for ‘Mr Holland’ and his assistant Miss Bell, blushing as she did so. Definitely not refusing to give in, she ordered a few rather luxurious-sounding treatments for herself.
‘Not much of an alias,’ Lazzaro drawled as she clicked the phone off.
‘I’m not the one with anything to hide,’ Caitlyn teased back. But he mustn’t have got her sense of humour, or something must have been lost in translation, because instead of smirking back at her, as she’d expected, his face hardened, his eyes narrowing for a moment, staring at her as he had all last week.
Looking at her as if he didn’t even like her.
The mobile ringing in his pocket went unanswered, Lazzaro instead flicking his eyes away and staring moodily out of the window. The sun was rising on an already warm day, hitting the high-rise towers of the city, and despite the air-conditioned car, Caitlyn felt drained. Even after the strong shot of coffee, Caitlyn suddenly felt weary—the teasing fun they’d had this morning but a distant memory now. It was clearly going to be another very long day.
‘Caitlyn Bell.’ When her own mobile rang she answered without checking—glad for the diversion, actually, with Lazzaro suddenly in this black mood. ‘Oh, Antonia,’ she said, and Lazzaro looked over sharply. ‘How are you?’
‘Today’s the day…’ Caitlyn could hear the excitement laced with fear in his sister’s voice. ‘We’re on our way to the hospital now. I’ve tried to get hold of Lazzaro at home, and on his mobile—he’s not with you, is he?’
Caitlyn was saved from having to answer by Lazzaro giving a rather irritated sigh and snapping his fingers for her to hand over the phone. But when he spoke to his sister his voice was light and easy—though Caitlyn couldn’t help but notice every bit of his body language said otherwise.
‘How are you?’ Lazzaro greeted his sister. ‘That’s fantastic!’ He paused and laughed. ‘Well, don’t be—you know they say the second labour’s always much easier.’